


First Time

by Cottia



Category: Queer as Folk (UK)
Genre: Coming Out, M/M, Stuart has a problem with people IDing as straight yet seeking out m/m sex, casually homophobic language used in non-homophobic context as done in the show, references to same underage as mentioned in the show
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-09
Updated: 2013-06-08
Packaged: 2017-12-14 09:27:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,623
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/835350
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cottia/pseuds/Cottia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stuart and Vince talk to-camera about how they came out to each other.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Vince

[Vince looks directly at the camera]

“We were just kids, y’know? Just 15. Although - it wasn’t even Stuart’s first time, that was with that PE teacher. I’ve forgotten ‘is name. Wouldn’t surprise me if Stuart has too, though. That’d be dead like ‘im, not remembering anything about the first person he copped off with. Anyway, right, we were in my bedroom, and we’d only known each other a few weeks, it wasn’t like I’d told him I was gay. I mean, you barely know anything about yourself, for absolute certain, at that age, do you? You don’t wanna come out to your best mate, he dumps you ‘cause he thinks you’re a poof, and three months later you decide Melanie Lambert from Year 11’s got proper nice tits after all. And Stuart - I mean, everyone fancied him, no-one could understand why he started hanging out wi’ me. I suppose I was the only one who’d put up with him, ‘cause he - he didn’t bother trying to be charming ‘round school. He just didn’t care - still doesn’t. I mean, he’ll sweet-talk anyone to get what he wants, and as soon as he’s got it - he’ll dump you. That’s just how he is.

Anyway, we were in my bedroom, and he started talking about some of the girls in the year above, saying they liked him, and what I thought of them - with this look in his eye, that look he gets, like he’s trying to test you, like he’s not really asking what he’s saying he’s asking, if you know what I mean. Not that I noticed back then, of course, ‘cause you’re dead thick and dead nervous when you’re a kid and you’re queer and someone asks whether you got a girlfriend yet. And eventually we got back to talking about music, and I went downstairs to get some food, and when I came back, there he was digging around under my mattress. 

My face must have just gone…white. ‘Cause if he was looking for dirty mags, he wasn’t going to find any of the usual stuff under there. I had one with girls in, but just the one - I used to keep the others inside it, so if my mum went looking she’d only find the straight stuff. But Stuart, he just kept looking, and I was just frozen, I couldn’t move, because - well. It’s Manchester, it’s 1985, and my new best mate’s just about to find out I’m straight as Spandau Ballet. And I just kept thinking: oh, fuck. Just that. Oh, fuck. You’d think I’d’ve had some kind of lie made up, for in case my mum did go looking - but no, just oh, fuck, oh, fuck. Over and over again. 

And Stuart, right, he opens the magazine, and looks up, and grins at me. And he says “This one’s a good one, can I borrow it? Close the door, won’t you, ‘less this is just what your mam reads you at bedtime.” And I’m still staring, and I can’t move, I just keep looking at him, like I’ve come back upstairs to find a sabre-tooth tiger on my bed. So he sighs, and walks over to the door, and closes it, and I can’t move except to look at him, because he doesn’t hate me, of course he doesn’t, ‘cause he’s gay. And it’s suddenly really obvious that he was testing me, talking about the girls, ‘cause he’s him and he’s bloody gorgeous, and he does exactly what he wants and the rest of us can just go to hell if we don’t like it.

I suppose that must mean something, yeah? I mean, he didn’t come out to his parents until he’d copped off with most of Canal Street, and he didn’t come out to me until he was sure I were gay. That’s about the finest compliment you’ll ever get from Stuart, I reckon. He wanted me to like him. Most people he never really cared, unless they had something he wanted. I’ve already said that, haven’t I?

Right, so, he closes the door, and looks at me, up and down, like he’s trying to size me up for a fight or something, and I’m still not saying anything, I’m just staring at ‘im. Like he’s the great bloody gay messiah, come from Ireland to save us from football and chatting up girls and getting the shit kicked out of us in the playground, like he’s that huge office block on Miller Street, the one you can’t stop staring at just ‘cause it’s so big.

‘Cause he’s just…magnetic, you know? Even at that age, I knew. Everyone knew. Worst thing was, he knew as well. The lucky, clever bastard.

[roll Queer as Folk UK title credits]


	2. Stuart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stuart's turn.

[Stuart looks directly at the camera]

I’d just moved over about a month before, but I didn’t really notice Vince at first. It’s not like he was hideous. He was just one of the quiet ones, the ones you never really notice, not unless they’re drop-dead gorgeous. And Vince isn’t one of those people you just notice in a crowd, you have to watch him before you see what he’s like. I’d been busy in school - getting to know the lie of the land, sorting out what teachers I could pull one over on and which ones not to cross, people to flirt with, people to avoid.

But one of the classes, I’m having a laugh with these blokes - god! I can’t even remember anything about them - and we get split up, across the room, for being too noisy or something. And I’m sent to sit by Vince. There’s some science project, and he keeps rambling on, and on, about some program he’s watching. Must’ve been Doctor Who. But I’m not really listening, ‘cause I start looking, and then I start thinking. And suddenly I think - hey, maybe he’s gay. Can’t be sure, obviously, and even if he is - well. Half of Canal Street don’t think they’re ‘gay.’ Straight, but perfectly happy to take it up the arse - or worse, they think they’re straight as long as they’re the one on top. Fucking hypocrites, all of them. So even if he’s gay as a fucking maypole, I’m not going to tell him about me, just in case. I’m out and proud to myself and any gay bloke who asks, sure…but I’m not fucking suicidal.

But I just have to know, I dunno why, but I do. Maybe ‘cause he’s a decent bloke, but I think we could be mates. ‘Cause it’s fucking hard being proper mates with some straight cunt, listening to them go on and fucking on about…Blondie, or whoever, while you’re wanking yourself blind whenever Jason Donovan gets his kit off on Neighbours. Maybe I’m just curious. Fuck knows.

Anyway, we start hanging around together, and I listen to him go on and on about Doctor bloody Who, and all the time I’m thinking, come on, give me a sign, give me something, you have to be. He never talks about girls, which is a point in my favour, but he could just be shy. Never mind could, he is. Still is, god knows why.

So anyway, we’re in his room, and I start talking about some girls - telling him they were flirting with me, pretending I wanted his opinion on them. He’s so nervous - it’s almost sweet. Oh god, Vince being sweet, that’s revolting, forget I said that. But he’s stammering and everything, I swear! 

Then he goes downstairs for a slash and some crisps. And I think, right, that’s it, I’ve gotta see, now, and I go under the mattress. See, everyone’s got porn in their room when they’re fifteen, but knowing Vince, I figure he’d have hid his somewhere bizarre. Inside his model TARDIS or down the back of the wardrobe so you could only get at it with a straightened-out coat hanger, or something.

But no, it’s right there. He’s hidden it - if hidden’s even the right word - inside a copy of some tits magazine, supposedly ‘cause Hazel’d find the porn but not realise he’s gay. Which - considering how Hazel ended up - is just wrong, in so many ways. And I’m thinking brilliant, this isn’t going to fuck up our being mates, he might know who else in school is gay, this is going to be fantastic, we can go down Canal Street together forever - 

And just then, he walks back in. Absolutely shits himself when he sees me. And - christ, I can’t think of the right thing to say. Everything’s fucking brilliant, and I can’t think what to say, ‘cause you can’t just go “Hey, guess what, me too!” And I’m grinning like an idiot, so he’s just bricking himself, and I’m just grinning back, for feels like half an hour. In the end the only thing I can think of to say is “Can I borrow this?” which sounds fucking pathetic, like I don’t have anything of my own, even though I’ve got ten times the amount he’s got, my mattress must be a foot taller with all the cock I’ve got under there. 

He’s still not fucking moving, by the way, he’s just stopped looking terrified and started grinning back at me. Like a twat. So I get up and close the door, ‘cause the last thing I want is Hazel walking in, and we’re just looking at each other, thinking thank god, someone else, someone I actually like, even if he does go on about his sodding telly a bit too much.

And we’ve been friends ever since. Thank god even Vince hides his porn under the mattress, you know?

[roll Queer as Folk UK title credits]


End file.
